she rejected him.
Behind Elena was a thump and squelch that undoubtedly meant
Matt had finally gotten off the roof of the Jag. He jumped into the fray
immediately.
“Don’t call Elena, Elena darling!” he shouted, continuing as he
turned to Elena, “Wendy’s probably the name of his latest little
girlfriend. And—and—and do you know what he did? How he woke me
up this morning?” Matt was quivering with indignation.
“He picked you up and threw you on top of the car?” Elena
hazarded. She talked over her shoulder to Matt because there was a faint
morning breeze that tended to mold her nightgown to her body. She
didn’t want Damon behind her just now.
“No! I mean, yes! No and yes! But—when he did, he didn’t even
bother to use his hands! He just went like this”—Matt waved an
arm—“and first I got dropped into a mud hole and next thing I know I
got dropped on the Jag. It could have broken the moonroof—or me! And
now I’m all muddy,” Matt added, examining himself with disgust, as if it
had only just occurred to him.
Damon spoke up. “And why did I pick you up and put you down
again? What were you actually doing at the time when I put some
distance between us?”
Matt flushed to the roots of his fair hair. His normally tranquil blue
eyes were blazing.
“I was holding a stick,” he said defiantly.